Walking Back ... in theDays of Cayman Past
Survival through Resilence
Will Jackson
Once upon a time when thecountry was young, and wealth was absent, and far out of the reachof the poor locals, living was equally hard for every one on theislands.
Every body fed from the same diet -- the fat of the land and theyields of the sea. Never were there any known rich people in eitherof the three islands. Sure enough a few families were better offthan others, but there were no millionaires among them. Many husbandsand fathers supported their families with their absence ratherthan with their presence.
My own father, for example, found work in Nicaragua, where yearafter year in his younger days he worked for one Mr. John Amussenof whom he often talked, even in his old days. My dear motherdied when I was a two-and-a-half-year-old, of whom I have no realremembrance, and I became acquainted with my father when I wasabout five years of age.
Well, in my youthful days there were many kids like me. The averagefamily became united with husband and father in the month of December,the fellowship being broken again in January. There were those,of course, who sailed on local schooners, and came home regularly,but usually with a very little to contribute to the family's existence.
Such men, however, played a double role that of seaman and farmers.Wives of the 19th and 20th centuries had a tough role to play;having the responsibility of rearing a growing family withoutdad's help often, and keeping the cultivation in shape, withoutwhich the daily menus could hardly be cooked. Luckily though,for those poor families there were lots of sea foods to be easilyhad. Those were the days when one could wade out in the shallowsin many places around the Islands and just collect as many conchsas were needed.
At nights even a woman could make up a dried thatch leaf torchand pick up as many lobsters as she wanted in the shallows ofthe shoreline where the lobsters went to feed at night. Many werethe times those ladies even turned over a huge turtle on the beachthat came up to deposit her eggs in the sand. That meant, notonly fresh meat in the kitchen, but also a little cash to spend.Fresh fish was available almost anywhere one chose to cast a hookwith bait on it.
Of such stuff there was no shortage; the reason why it is saidthat no one ever starved to death in the Hardly was there anysale though, for that which was taken from the sea; every oneunable to look after his own needs, had relatives who suppliedtheir needs from sea and land. During those good old days lovingaffection reigned in the hearts of people. The key word was 'sharing',helping others. Relatives and friends took time out to care forone another. Who ever was the distressed one, death in the familywas just that; Burdens and sorrows were shared. Help was alwaysthere for the helpless.
There was no real industry in the Island except the turtle fishingbusiness which could hardly be termed an industry, since the commodityhad to be sought for in foreign waters, and sold in the USA alongwith the uncertainties of always catching those turtles. However,a hundred or so years ago, no one knows rightly when, someonethought up the idea of putting to use the thousands of thatchleaves that spread over the land and were used only as roofingfor the country houses.
Thus started the Islands only industry for fifty years or more.Straw ropes were invented and all over the island of Grand Caymanthe inhabitants entered the trade, that was an honest, and industriousbusiness all over the land, but it was never an easy one or apleasant job to accomplish. It was hard on everyone who had tofind financial existence by the trade.
Feeling certain within myself that there are thousands of youngadults in the island who have no knowledge of what rope makingwas all about, or of the hardships their grandparents met withto support their parents and raise up a family, permit me to introduceto my readers the task of making just a finished coil of rope.Here is where the process began at; Normally it was women whoin the job; The ball started rolling on Monday mornings; whena group of women, two or three in company took off for the woodland,some times far into the interior, to hunt for and cut the budleaves of the thatch trees which was called a 'top'.
This was the material necessary to use in the making of the rope.It was no picnic for those precious women out there, tearing theirpatch through tickets, over terrible cliffs, and through wateredswamps; often being smeared with ticks and blistering maiden plumbush that blistered and scored whatever parts of the body it camein contact with. All this, and more also had to be endured toobtain a harvest of two hundred tops for the day. But wait, weare not finished yet. That basket of green tops had to be liftedto the woman's back and carried, perhaps three or four miles toreach home.
The next step was to hitch those tops together in twos and arrangethem in the sun for a day or two. The tops were then strippedup into strings, and a weaving process began. The women sat upsome times late into the night weaving, or twisting strands inpreparation for laying the rope the next morning in order to exchangeat the little district stores for the day's necessities, suchas a little flour, corn meal, sugar, soap or whatever was themost urgently needed. This process went on day by day for theweek, but on Saturday they had to have more ropes than duringthe week days in order to prepare the Sunday fares which was alwaysa little more classed than the week days menu.
May I remind you that items of clothing for many people had tobe gotten by the same rope trade; therefore the women had to workreal hard and long hours to keep up with life's demands with theindustry. The finished product was done in 25 fathoms length,but 50 fathoms was called a coil.
Ropes were taken in exchange by the local merchants and shippedto Jamaica where they were in turn exchanged with the whole salersfor merchandise; in other words, the Islands traded with ropes.It was in the 1950's when the trade fell flat between Jamaicaand the Islands, thus making life real hard for many families.Just about that time the turtle trade also failed. No turtles,and no sale for ropes added up to no income.
Nevertheless while the side doors to survival were closing, theGreat Provider was opening wide a front door through the previouslyblank wall. During the forties cash began to seep into the pocketsof many who couldn't even count money. To many, a pound note wasan item they hardly handled before the forties; but mind you alot of things could be purchased with that note in those days.
With World War II in progress our men were out there having chequesdelivered to their families every month. Caymanians had not yetlearned about luxurious living and were able to save very wellfrom their five or six pounds monthly allowance.
Wattle and daubed houses furnished with local furniture were stillheld as acceptable living.
There were no gas stoves, no refrigerators or toilet facilities.So, where did we come from? Read next of the Islands that timeforgot and Heaven remembers.
Next Week: The Birthingof Tourism and Trade
The Author:
Mr. Percival Jackson, knownthroughout the Cayman Islands as "Will" Jackson, isa born East Ender. He is a man of many experiences: A Home Guardduring World War Two; A former policeman, a seaman for 22 yearswho sailed around the world; and a retired businessman.
Mr. Will has been a Justice of the Peace for the past 20 yearsand a Marriage Officer, whose one greatest interest is preachingthe gospel.
He is the author of three books, one which will be published ina few weeks. Obviously, his pasttime is in writing of life inthe old days of Cayman, and has written many local articles forthe local media.
The pride of his life is his wife, Miss Sybil Harris of GeorgeTown, whom he married 35 years ago. They are now retired, enjoyinglife together, living in East End, by the Sea.